


oceans (between me and you)

by simplerushes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Eventual Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Realism, Memory Magic, also have to state that this is:, apparently there's a tag for that, atsumu please stop being wrong, atsumu thinks shouyou is a mermaid and he's not exactly wrong, atsumu's next best guess is shouyou's the god of the sea, i mean i THINK it's a happy ending, see also: it takes atsumu six years to come back to the sea, typical miya twins chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplerushes/pseuds/simplerushes
Summary: Atsumu is twenty three years old now and he doesn’t remember anything about the boy who saved him when he was eleven years old.All he remembers is that he’s supposed to be afraid of the ocean.(or: magical realism au where shouyou is a child of the ocean and atsumu doesn't remember him at all but that's alright because shouyou never forgets.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, very minor i don't even wanna tag them officially: osamu/suna
Comments: 31
Kudos: 254





	oceans (between me and you)

**Author's Note:**

> title: oceans - seafret
> 
> songs that i listened to while writing this:
> 
> now we know - jenny kern  
> house by the sea - moddi  
> holocene - bon iver  
> i'm all at sea - will cookson  
> halcyon - paper kites  
> hello sunshine - paul cook and the chronicles
> 
> \---
> 
> this fic is two things: almost a mermaid au and incredibly indulgent.

_"What were you before you met me?"_  
_"I think I was drowning",_  
_"And what are you now?"_  
_"Water.”_

_\- Ocean Vuong_

△

There is one memory Atsumu’s never quite managed to bring to the center of his mind. It is a memory that has eluded him all these years. A memory he can almost, almost grasp in his hands. So close, but not quite.

It goes a little like this--

He is visiting his grandfather for the summer. Osamu is playing with the cat back at home while Atsumu is at the beach, looking for something to do. 

He is eleven years old and he doesn’t know how to swim. He just likes the feeling of the sand between his toes and the wind in his hair. Atsumu loves the beach. 

This is all Atsumu can see clearly in his mind, this one day that summer so many years ago. He remembers how it started but not quite how he got to the end, just that everyone had gathered over him, worried and afraid, his grandfather pale in the face and Osamu crying, tears streaming down his face. 

He doesn’t remember drowning but he does remember opening his eyes to a shadow looming over him before everybody else had arrived. A smile that skips around the edges of his memory and hair the color of sunrise. 

Atsumu is twenty three years old now and he doesn’t remember anything about the boy who saved him when he was eleven years old. 

All he remembers is that he’s supposed to be afraid of the ocean. 

△

“It’ll be a good time for you boys,” their mother had said, seeing them off at the train station. She’d given them both a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a gentle reminder to be good, to not cause any problems for their grandfather. “You know I’d come see dad if I could,”

Osamu had reassured her that they understand, that they really don’t have anything else better to do in the summer, anyway. 

“Besides, I missed the beach,” Osamu had said, just before they started boarding the train. 

“Be good,” were her last words for them, and anyone who overheard her might have just laughed it off as a worried mother but anyone who knew the twins would actually hear that as a threat. _Be good or else._

See, this is another thing that Atsumu remembers from his childhood, his mother sending them off to play at the beach. Yelling at them from the front porch to please stay out of trouble and be good.

Atsumu thinks about that now as the silhouette of the town starts to appear against the rolling clouds. 

“Mom’s right,” Osamu tells him, bumping their shoulders together in the backseat of their grandfather’s truck. “I think this is going to be good for us. I kinda need a break,” 

“Yeah, me too,” Atsumu knows that isn’t a lie, but it isn’t exactly the truth, either. He knows they need this break more than anything.

Atsumu’s always felt like he’s been running all his life, wondering if he could catch up to the shadow of his memories. If he can eventually remember just what about this town shakes him. 

It’s not all bad, he knows. He admits. There’s just something very important here that he can’t quite place his finger on.

But for now--

But for now, he leans back and watches as they drive out of the station and into an open road, the sea wide and open to his right. 

He rolls the windows down, takes in a deep breath. He smells the salt in the ocean. The sand. He remembers doing the same as a child, all those years ago. So many summers back. Atsumu remembers loving this town. The house by the sea. His grandfather’s little shop. Volleyball at the beach with his brother and all the friends they’d made while visiting throughout the years. He remembers that, at least. 

Atsumu looks over his shoulder at Osamu who’s staring fixated at the rolling waves as well. 

“Is it good to be back?” their grandfather calls from the front, a fond smile on his face. 

It’s Atsumu who answers him this time, grinning a bit too wildly at his grandfather and saying, voice maybe too loud for this compact truck, “Absolutely!” 

And there’s a small little part of him that knows that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be this summer but it’s also the same voice that tells him it’s been far too long since he’d last visited.

With his eyes closed, all he can hear is the waves gently crashing against the shore. They almost sound like they’re calling for him.

Atsumu pretends it doesn’t bother him at all. 

△

Night catches up to them quickly and before Atsumu even knows it, he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

This will be his life for the next two months. Just slow, quiet days that lead to slow, quiet nights. It’s good to be out here. Good to hear the distant sound of the waves as it rolls into the shore. It’s all good now that he’s far enough but Atsumu can’t imagine actually getting into the water. Doesn’t want to. 

And he can’t bring himself to remember just why he’s so against it except that he’d drowned as a child and that should be enough, right? 

It should be but it isn’t, it doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t sound complete.

Atsumu falls asleep like that, turned to the side and completely ignoring his brother’s all too loud music from the room across the hall. If he had more energy, he would’ve yelled at Osamu, but their grandfather’s already asleep on the other side of the house and Atsumu’s just tired from the day of traveling. He is tired. 

His dreams catch up to him quick.

He dreams of being out in the ocean, the wind whipping at his hair and the taste of salt on his tongue. Atsumu sees himself at eleven, and then at twelve, and then once more at seventeen. He sees himself throughout all the years he’s been visiting this seaside town. He sees himself and doesn’t recognize the laughter in his eyes and the wide smiles. 

Atsumu has no other choice but to watch as a younger version of him gestures wildly, hands in the air and eyes glittering. He watches and doesn’t understand because there’s nobody else there, and he’d half expected it to be Osamu, hiding somewhere. But he’s alone. 

He is alone in his dreams at the beach, sitting on the edge of the shore, toes soaked in the water. 

Or he’s under the pier, where it’s dark and secluded and empty. Atsumu sees all the spots he used to frequent as a child and can’t shake the feeling that it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. Because he knows these places, just not why he’d been there. Who he’s talking to. Why he’s laughing. 

Running. Chasing.

Why he’s having so much fun on his own. 

It’s a harmless dream but it still leaves him feeling empty. Like there’s a gap inside his memory that he’s been trying to fill ever since he’d last left this town. A gap that he’s now suddenly all too aware now that he’s back. 

“Atsumu,” a voice calls to him in his dream. Childlike and playful. There’s a laugh that doesn’t sound like his own. 

When Atsumu, eleven, thirteen, and then for the last time seventeen, looks over his shoulder, he sees a flash of orange hair and eyes that glitter like diamonds strewn across the surface of the ocean. 

Atsumu wakes up with a start, heart hammering, and fingers clenched in his sheets. 

There is a memory, yes. But there is also a boy.

△

The walk down to the beach is short. They pass by a few kids playing outside as well as a group of older ones making their way to the beach, too. Everyone here looks like a local. They both stand out a little too much but it’s not like this isn’t their first time here. This is basically home to them.

Atsumu feels at ease here. He likes being with his grandfather. Likes winding down with Osamu. He likes the little house by the sea. 

The ocean itself is a different story but the beach isn’t so bad. Sand between his toes and the warm afternoon sun warming his face up. It’s almost picture perfect, the way the blue of the water looks surreal. How the surface glitters against the heavy glare of the sun. How the sound of the waves sound so familiar, like a song that calls to him. 

All Atsumu needs to do is pick up the phone, but instead he turns away from the water to look at Osamu, stretched on a towel and eyes closed. 

He’s still awake, this much Atsumu can confirm--and he does confirm it with a little pinch to his brother’s cheek. 

“Tell me about our last summer here,” Atsumu asks, because he can’t quite remember what he’d done that day. Only that he’d gotten up and left the house running. The rest is lost in history. 

“We had yakiniku with grandpa,” Osamu tells him, swinging a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. “And it was really good beef, too,”

Atsumu snorts out a laugh. “Okay, master chef. What about the rest of the day?”

“I spent it with grandpa at the shop,” Osamu grumbles, voice low, the words coming out slowly, like he’s just moments away from falling asleep. “You were gone the whole day,”

“Where was I?” it’s ridiculous to ask about what he’d been doing. Atsumu was seventeen. He should remember. But he doesn’t. It’s all half baked memories. “What was I doing?”

“Man, if I know,” Osamu aims a kick at him.

Atsumu flicks him on the forehead. 

“You used to run out on your own whenever we were here,” Osamu lifts his arm to squint at Atsumu. “I don’t know, you had that one friend, or whatever.” 

He’s about to pester Osamu for more information but his brother’s already asleep, curled up on his side under the shade of a tree. 

There’s a twist at his insides. A tightness in his chest. The sound of the waves too loud in his ears.

There is a memory, a boy, and a friend he doesn’t remember.

△

The thing about memories is that they slip through your fingertips like water. 

There are some that stand out, vivid bright colors against the monotonous greys of your past. 

Like the time their small family of three went to the amusement park and Osamu ended up with a nosebleed but Atsumu laughed, and laughed, and laughed the whole afternoon because of how ugly his brother had looked. 

Or the time when they’d both gotten their university admission letters, how they’d yelled through the phone at their mother who was out of town for a business trip. How everything had felt like it was falling into place. 

Happy things. Fun things. Atsumu remembers them, holds onto them tightly. 

He also remembers bad times, too. Like when his grandmother passed. How they had visited this little seaside town in the winter instead of in the summer to bury their grandmother. The messy break ups and even messier detours in life that he took, hoping it would make everything easy. It didn’t. 

And yet Atsumu is still here, breathing in the fresh air. They say the ocean is healing, but Atsumu thinks it’s terrifying. Massive. Unknown. There are too many questions than they have answers for. 

“A friend,” Atsumu says it outloud, as if to remind himself of this one thing. A friend that he doesn’t remember. It adds to the long list of things that he doesn’t, or rather. It subtracts from the list of things that he doesn’t know, because now he has this: A boy and a friend. Could they be the same person? 

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu hums from the doorway. He raises an eyebrow, “Don’t want you hurting yourself,”

Atsumu wants to throw the nearest book at him but he refrains. Doesn’t want cause trouble for their old grandfather. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. 

“How come I don’t remember him?” There must be something in his eyes because Osamu falters, mouth opening and closing again, as if he’s biting down on the urge to snipe at his brother. “You mentioned a friend. I don’t remember him,”

“Maybe the city got to you,” Osamu tells him, voice going quiet. “I mean, I don’t remember everyone I’ve met, either,” 

“Okay, but don’t you think it’s strange I hardly remember anything from our summers here?” 

And Atsumu knows that it’s the wrong thing to say because Osamu’s eyes widen.

“What d’you mean, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu sits on the edge of his bed, looking a bit too concerned for his brother. “You hurt your brain or something?”

Atsumu groans. “Or something,”

He knows it sounds ridiculous but being back here has made him more aware of all the gaps in his memories. Is it the sea breeze, or the smell of the ocean? Is it the water that sings to him the same way sirens did in legends of old, calling out to him? Taunting him? Laughing at him because he’s drowned before. Almost died from it, too. Or is it everything all together? 

“Huh,” Osamu eventually gets up when Atsumu goes quiet, but he does linger by the doorway for a few moments, eyes trained on his brother. “Maybe you just ate something bad.”

That has the desired effect. Atsumu cracks a smile to match the infuriating grin on Osamu’s face. 

△

So Atsumu doesn’t remember a lot from his summers here, so what, right? It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t, except that it feels wrong to forget them. 

But then again--he remembers everything else about his time here with his family. Remembers all the times he’d gone here with his mother and his brother, their grandparents welcoming them with smiles like sunshine. Atsumu remembers all that and at the same time forgets so much more. 

He just doesn’t know exactly what. 

It’s wrong.

It’s wrong, wrong, wrong, and he’s dreaming now, he knows it, because there’s only the sound of cicadas and the soft blowing of an evening breeze. Atsumu is dreaming because he’s not twenty two years old anymore. 

He is younger, somehow. 

Somehow he always dreams about the younger version of him. Eleven years old Atsumu with scraped knees and a mean grin who would call on kids on the street to play with him. It feels like a different version of him, from a different book, a different lifetime. 

But it doesn’t feel wrong, not at all. 

“Atsumu,” There’s that voice again. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to swim,” 

“I don’t want to swim,” Atsumu hears himself say, voice boyish and high pitched. “The water is scary,”

“No it’s not,” and then, after a second, “Okay, maybe a little bit. But I’ll be with you. You trust me, right?”

The boy offers a hand for him to take.

Atsumu hears the ocean in his ears.

He takes the hand, fingers squeezing tightly.

“I do.” 

△

“Someone taught me how to swim,” Atsumu is out of breath. He skids into the kitchen to find his grandfather flipping idly through the paper. 

“I remember that,” his grandfather puts the paper down. “You had that little friend of yours,”

Great, so everyone remembers his friend but him. What sort of friend does that make him? 

A bad friend, Atsumu tells himself. A really bad one. But is it his fault that there’s something wrong with his brain? Is it his fault he’s so deathly afraid of the ocean that he just blanks out whenever he even thinks about going into the water?

“Do you know him?” there’s an urgency in his voice that his grandfather picks up on easily. 

He shakes his head. “Never really met him, I don’t think. Just knew you used to play a lot,” 

“What, are we talking about ‘Tsumu’s imaginary friend?” Osamu asks, halfway through a yawn. 

“He’s not imaginary,” this much Atsumu knows, at least.

“Sure, sure,” Osamu pours the both of them a cup of coffee, passing a warm mug to Atsumu, who wraps his fingers tightly around it, letting the warmth seep through his skin. “You did learn to swim that one summer,” 

“I don’t remember that,” Atsumu admits, cheeks growing hot. “I thought I learned it at the pool.” 

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mouth already open and ready to shoot that stupid idea down when their grandfather laughs. 

“The sea is special, boys,” he tells them both, folding the paper up. “Maybe you should pay another visit, eh?” 

This question he directs to Atsumu, who wants nothing more than to stay indoors. There’s no way he’s going into the sea. No way he’s even taking a few steps closer to the shore. 

“It’s dangerous, gramps,” Atsumu manages a weak laugh, a poor excuse of brushing the whole thing off. 

“I mean, is it dangerous or are you just terrified?” 

And if their grandfather wasn’t here then Atsumu would have probably knocked Osamu off his chair already.

Instead, he just shrugs, one last very poor attempt at nonchalance.

“I think it’s both.”

△

Pay another visit to the beach, his grandfather had said. The beach is fine, okay. The sea isn’t so bad if he’s looking at it from a distance. But actually throw all caution to the wind and wade into the water? Leave everything behind on the shore so the waves can claim him once more? 

No fucking way--

Is what he told himself earlier so it’s a shock, really, that he’s here in the middle of the night. The beach is quieter when everyone else is already at home and asleep.

And this isn’t the kind of beach that attracts visitors. It’s just a small little fishing town that’s meant only for them. It’s a special place and it would be even more beautiful if Atsumu could just get over his fear of the water. 

Things like that are easier said than done, but he’s here, anyway, at the beach. 

It’s a few minutes after midnight. It’s late but Osamu’s out with a few of their childhood friends and his grandfather’s already asleep. Nobody will be looking for him (which is a good and bad thing, because if he vanishes now then nobody will know until morning, and god, this was a mistake. This was a terrible mistake). 

He shakes the thoughts away and instead looks at the water. 

It’s calmer, at this time of the night. The sound of the waves still ringing in his ears like a siren song that he’s heard so many times before whose lyrics are lost in the storm of his own memories.

Atsumu manages to walk a few steps towards the shoreline, carefully putting a distance between the water and himself. He knows it should be silly, it shouldn’t even make sense for him to be afraid of the shore itself but he is and there’s nothing in this world that will convince him otherwise.

Except--

Except for a memory. A boy. A friend. A hand that he took. 

There’s a splash somewhere to his right that didn’t sound like it’d come just from the waves. It sounded a lot like someone diving into the water. But there’s nobody else out here with him. It is midnight and Atsumu is alone at the beach.

Atsumu is alone. 

“It’s probably nothing,” Atsumu says, shivering from the cold. He should’ve brought a jacket. Shouldn’t have listened to his grandfather. The ocean and it’s surprises, or whatever. _Whatever_. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees something glittering in the sand. He turns away from the water to investigate it, a bit wary because it’s late and while the crime rate in this town is almost nonexistent, it’s really always Atsumu’s luck that lands him in the worst situations.

He bends down to pick the glittering object up and finds a necklace. He brings the necklace up to his face and squints. A locket in the form of a seashell. 

Perhaps someone had left it here. Lost a pretty little locket. But Atsumu can’t find them now. He can try tomorrow, maybe. If he’s up for it. But for now, he slips it into his pocket and tries not to think too hard about it or how the locket had, for a split second, felt familiar. 

The feeling is gone all too quick for Atsumu to even notice it, much less let it register.

Later, and in the quiet of his room, with the whole world standing with bated breath, Atsumu takes the locket out again and brings it up to his ear. 

He hears the ocean, the sound of the waves trapped in this tiny little locket.

Atsumu falls asleep holding it. 

That night, he doesn’t dream about anything. 

△

The days after that are a flurry of activity. Their grandfather had opened his shop again, the twins busier than ever as they helped him around since they’d taken it upon themselves to be his new employees.

“What good are grandchildren if you can’t use them for manual labor?” Their mother had laughed at them through the phone while their grandfather just sat back behind the counter, patiently ringing all of the customers who came through.

And there weren’t a lot. It’s not a pretty big town and most people know each other, and that fact extends to the twins, too. They’ve gotten dozens of, _Look how grown you two are already_ and a handful of _I couldn’t even tell you apart then, god knows I won’t try this time!_

The years haven’t been too bad on them, though. Twenty-three and just a few months away from setting out on their own. 

Osamu will be starting his career overseas and Atsumu has no idea what he’ll be doing after graduation but that’s fine. He’ll figure it out as he goes along. For now, he just enjoys working for his grandfather.

And if he and Osamu knock over a few of the boxes in the storage room and start throwing canned food at each other then their grandfather doesn’t need to know. They’re always quick to clean up after themselves, anyway. 

“Hey, you remember Suna?” Osamu asks him one afternoon from behind the counter. “He asked if you wanted to go for drinks,” 

Atsumu’s noticed that Osamu likes to phrase questions like this, now. _Do you remember_ \-- as if Atsumu’s brain is just one blank slate. 

“Sure,” Atsumu remembers Suna. He knows him, of course. A quiet boy who was around the same age as them. Atsumu also remembers everyone else, too. The kids they used to run around the streets with until dark. 

Today isn’t a bad day, Atsumu thinks, staring across the table at one of his oldest friends. It’s pretty loud in this seaside bar but it’s nice. This is the kind of summer night that makes you want to continuously relieve it. A never ending cycle of nights with good drinks and even better company. 

But this town isn’t quite like your regular beach getaway and instead of a wild night of drinking, they spend it just talking. The drinks don’t stop but as the night grows darker, the mood goes more muted, like it’s just how things are done in this little town. You start off with a bustling day and end it sleepily, letting the music of the waves lull you to sleep. 

Or maybe it’s just the drinks that’s making Atsumu sleepy. 

Suna raises an eyebrow at him, corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

“Don’t say it,” Atsumu shoots him down before Suna can make fun of him, and by god he won’t put it past him.

“It’s a bit past ‘Tsumu’s bed time,” Osamu snickers. 

“It was a long day,” Atsumu tries to contain his yawn but fails.

Osamu laughs at him while Suna just shakes his head. 

“Had higher hopes for you boys,” Suna says, leaning back into his chair. 

“Shut up,” Atsumu stifles the yawn behind his hand. It’s crazy how being out here in the country has made him an early riser. Even crazier how he’s sleepy after just a few rounds of drinks, and it’s barely past ten in the evening, too. “I think I’ll go ahead,”

Atsumu and Osamu share a look. A long, calculated look, before Atsumu tilts his head inconspicuously to the side, a very subtle nod directed to Suna. 

Osamu looks like he’s planning the next freak accident in the store’s back closet and Atsumu just excuses himself with a smirk and an all too lilting, “You boys behave while I’m not here.”

Either the accident tomorrow is going to be a few dozen boxes of canned seafood toppling over him or Osamu will sneak into his room at night and just simply end him there and there. Atsumu will never put it past his twin brother for the sole reason that he’ll do the exact same thing if presented with the same chance.

And although he’s tired from the day’s events, he also feels happy. Lighter. It could be the alcohol but it could also just be that small satisfaction of meeting old friends. Seeing someone you’d practically grown up with just that little bit taller. Older. A more sensible version of the little boy who used to trip over himself all the time. It’s good. 

Atsumu isn’t sure if it’s time that took his memories from him or if it’s the ocean, because admitting it’s the second will make him sound crazy given his aversion for it. But it’s a possibility.

Could you be so terrified of one thing that you simply forget everything else associated with it?

The locket jingles in his pocket and Atsumu takes it out to spread it on his open hand. It’s a bit rusted but the seashell that hangs in the middle is still shiny. Some nights Atsumu swears that it glows in the dark, too. 

He’s tried to pry it open to no success. He just wants to know why it sounds like the ocean. He wants to know who it belongs to even though a small part of him already knows that this necklace had been lost but not anymore. 

That night, Atsumu falls asleep with the necklace balled in his hand.

He is eleven again in his dreams and the waves are taking him under. 

Atsumu calls for Osamu, tears in his eyes and water in his mouth. He wants his brother, his mother, his grandfather. He wants for someone to save him because he’s drowning and it’s cold now that he’s so far away from shore. He is terrified and he is drowning, and he is going to die at eleven years old. 

But he doesn’t. 

Atsumu doesn’t die.

He is eleven years old still when he opens his eyes. He is on the sand, soaked through his bones and coughing out water. 

There is a hand on his chest, easing him back down onto the sand.

“Steady there,” there is that voice again, familiar. A boy. A friend. “You’re okay, now,” 

Atsumu remembers this much--

He is eleven years old when he drowns. On his back in the sand and sputtering out sea water. He sees a shadow loom over him, the sun high in the sky. Hands on his chest and on his face, in his hair. Hands that heal him. They glide over his very being like water washing away all the pain and the hurt inside of him. 

Atsumu remembers fragments, now. Bits and pieces.

He remembers orange hair and wide eyes. 

“What?” Atsumu, eleven and stupid, sputters out. 

“I said, you’re okay,” the voice is childish. He thinks he can make out his face this time around. He doesn’t look any older than him. In fact, he looks much younger. “You’re safe.” 

The last question dies on his tongue because Atsumu wakes up, the locket in his hand burning up. He drops it immediately, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. 

Atsumu stares at the glowing locket and asks out loud, “Who are you?” 

Because there is a memory that he’s been trying to chase ever since he’d stepped foot into this town again. 

There is a boy he remembers, and that boy might have been his friend but he had been different, too. 

Atsumu thinks that boy must have been special. 

△

“‘Samu?” They’re both bored out of their minds in the store, their grandfather running off to have tea or play some chess with his friend, either or. 

“Yes, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu says, sounding just as bored. 

“Tell me about the day I almost drowned,” 

Osamu steadies him with a more careful look this time around. If he notices the new necklace Atsumu’s been wearing all day then he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he just tips his head back as if in deep thought and finally relents by saying, “I mean, since you asked so nicely,” 

But Atsumu knows that the memory isn’t only painful to him but to his brother, too. They’ve spent all their lives together. Have given their mother too many headaches in one lifetime. Have gotten into trouble every corner they’ve zipped off to. But the thing is--when it comes to Atsumu and Osamu, they always do everything together.

So for Osamu to be anywhere but by Atsumu’s side when his twin brother had nearly drowned, well, it kind of ruined him, too. 

And Atsumu can hear it in the way he recounts the story. Can tell that even though Osamu is trying to sound calm, he’s still angry at himself. Guilty. 

“We found you on the shore,” Osamu continues, eyes lowered. “I was with grandpa in the store and we’d heard from the neighbors. Nobody even knew you left the house,” 

There’s a bitter smile on Osamu’s face.

Atsumu matches it with his own. 

Reckless. Never listened to anybody. No wonder Atsumu can get into double the trouble even without his twin around. 

“You were fine, you kept saying you were fine,” Osamu glances at him this time, still suspecting whether Atsumu had told the truth then. “You said someone had rescued you. A little boy,” 

Atsumu was a little boy back then. Eleven years old and reckless. 

“We didn’t find anyone with you. But you were a bit crazy, y’know that, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu grins, now, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “When we asked you where the boy was, all you told us was that he’d gone home,” 

This is a detail that Atsumu hadn’t dreamed. This is something he doesn’t remember. 

“Home?” Because if Osamu knows where to find him then maybe Atsumu can finally go and see him, finally get his answers.

“Yeah, it was funny,” Osamu laughs, just a little bit. “You insisted he walked right back into the sea.” 

A memory. A boy. A friend. And a home in the sea. 

“You didn’t tell me that before,” Atsumu can’t help but sound betrayed--not because Atsumu hadn’t told him but because his twin remembers more about the day he’d nearly drowned than Atsumu himself. 

“You never wanted to talk about it. Mom told me not to bring it up,” because Atsumu would clam up. Drop everything when he remembered the cold water pulling him under and deep. “And I thought--I thought you remembered, ‘Tsumu,” 

“I didn’t,” and then, after a beat. “But I think I’m starting to, ‘Samu. Is that normal?”

“I don’t know, but one thing’s for sure,” Osamu bumps shoulders with his twin. “You were never normal. You’re pretty fucking weird.” 

△

This time, Atsumu is certain he knows what to do. But knowing is very different from actually doing it, especially because he’s so afraid. Just the thought of venturing out on his own has his heart racing. But he has to do this alone. He can’t drag his brother into this, because if he fails and if this is just some weird, twisted psychotic break then at least he’ll only really have himself to blame. 

The fewer people who know, the better.

But it’s still hard. 

He tries every night. Gets up after midnight when he knows everyone else is asleep and the whole town is quiet, not a single person out on the streets. He makes it as far as the door before he stops. This is something he repeats for several nights in a row until one Sunday, when he falls asleep early, the gentle pitter patter of the rain on the roof easily lulling him to sleep.

Atsumu sleeps right through midnight but he’s awoken a few hours after, the gentle rain from earlier now an absolute downpour. The wind is howling outside, tree branches slapping against his windows. His heartbeat is going several miles too fast but he gets up, anyway, hand clutching at the locket around his throat. 

This might just be the stupidest thing he’s about to do but something tells him that it has to be tonight. If not now, then it’s going to be never. 

He doesn’t have to be too quiet, Osamu and his grandfather fast asleep. A quick glance at the kitchen clock tells him that it’s a little past two in the morning. Just a few more hours until dawn. 

At least it will be morning soon if anything happens to him. A bleak thought to have just as he steps out into the pouring rain, but it is all Atsumu can offer himself. 

Atsumu makes a run for the beach, jacket whipping against the wind as he runs in the rain, footsteps heavy on gravel and then on sand, feet feeling heavier with every step he takes towards the shore, like he’s already running through water and the currents are pushing against him. 

The waves are high from the rain and the water is dark. Gone are the diamonds on the surface and the gentle rolling of the waves. If Atsumu goes in right now there’s a chance he won’t come back, but it is now. It has to be now. 

The little voice in his head is suspiciously quiet but perhaps that could only mean one thing—that Atsumu is on the right track, that this isn’t just a foolish endeavor. 

A memory. A boy. A friend. A home in the sea.

If Atsumu wants to find him then he has to go into the water. 

He should know how to swim. 

Atsumu _knows_ how to swim, the boy had taught him how to swim, so many summers ago. 

“I can swim,” Atsumu says to himself, the wind instantly whipping the words away. But it is enough for Atsumu.

He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks his shoes off and walks to the shore. 

It’s been so long since the water has kissed his feet. A whole lifetime ago, it seems. 

But if he brings himself to remember, if he tries hard enough, he thinks it might have been that one summer afternoon when he was seventeen. One last afternoon spent swimming that he remembers in bits and pieces. The golden hour painting everything it touches red and orange and beautiful. A laugh, a boy who calls his name and splashes water on him. Atsumu remembers this much. 

The water will only give you as much as you can take, and Atsumu might be going crazy but he’s starting to remember his dreams in more vivid detail. A blurred face, a shadow, tanned arms and wide, brown eyes. 

These waters have taken so much from him over the years and Atsumu had just let it.

The rain is still falling in earnest but he barely pays it any attention as he starts to wade into the water. It’s cold and it pushes against him, like it doesn’t want him anywhere near the sea. Like it is not welcoming him. 

_Do you trust me, Atsumu_? The boy had asked, hand reaching out for him to take. Atsumu had known him, then. Had trusted him. And Atsumu doesn’t remember him now, or even know him, at least not in the way that counts. Can’t remember anything but his hair and his eyes, and the sound of his laughter, but the answer is still the same over a decade later.

_I do._

Atsumu pushes on, because the water can be cruel but it can also be forgiving, he knows this. He knows this because someone had said it to him once. 

The boy. The friend. 

His friend. 

Atsumu’s friend. 

He doesn’t chance a glance behind his shoulder, knows that he doesn’t need to check to confirm that he’s already too far away from the shore than he likes. But he is not afraid, only determined. A fool’s determination. Atsumu bites on the inside of his cheek as he starts to swim, trying to keep his head up. Trying not to freeze. Trying not to let the rain and the waves pull him under, because it’s what they want. It’s the only thing they’re after.

They’d failed to take him then, that summer at eleven years old.

And Atsumu has walked right back into their open arms. 

The ocean pulls him in and the waves push him under.

Atsumu goes down and the whole world is suddenly quiet as the dark waters wrap around him.

Everything is dark and he knows this is it, this is what should have happened twelve years ago, and perhaps the idea of a boy in his memories he can’t even remember now is just a silly little idea that he’d been trying to chase all summer long, to fill in the holes inside of himself. Perhaps it is all that and there is no boy after all and despite knowing how to swim, Atsumu cannot win against the sea. 

He sees nothing but darkness and he’s about to close his eyes and stop struggling when there’s a spark of light. 

Everything is slow and quiet underwater but Atsumu can see it clearly. The seashell necklace is glowing. It’s actually glowing. A bright blue light under the sea. Atsumu holds on to it. It’s warm when everything else is cold. The light slips through the gaps in his fingers and it illuminates everything around him, the water turning a beautiful blue despite the raging storm on the surface. 

Atsumu’s chest tightens, his vision almost blurring. He’s running out of air but he tries. Underwater, he doesn’t hear the sound of the waves anymore. Instead, he hears a call. His name. A familiar voice.

The locket opens. There is only one word carved in the middle. A name that Atsumu should remember.

A name that Atsumu knows, now.

_Shouyou._

And then everything goes dark. 

△

One second Atsumu is drowning and the next he is dreaming.

Atsumu is seventeen years old and sitting on the shore, a small seashell locket popped open in his palm. 

“What are you doing?” the boy asks him. His friend. Atsumu knows his name, now. Is more certain than anything. 

“Just watch,” Atsumu carves out a single word. Just one name.

Shouyou leans in to look at his handiwork and laughs at him.

“Why would you write that?” 

Atsumu laughs with him, too. Seventeen years old and already six years since he first met Shouyou and his heart still does a weird little tug whenever Shouyou so much as directs a laugh at him. 

“So I’ll always remember you,” Atsumu says, plain and simple.

“I don’t think that’ll work,” Shouyou’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. 

Because the thing with Shouyou is that Atsumu knows he isn’t like him, or like anyone else he knows. Shouyou is special. A child of the ocean. 

And the water will give but it will also take. 

Atsumu had known about it. He should have known and yet even that important detail he’d forgotten. The waves had completely taken everything from him after that afternoon. 

“It’ll work, promise,” Atsumu shows Shouyou the seashell locket with Shouyou’s name carved in the middle. Simple, easy, it will get the job done. Atsumu had always been a naive boy. A stupid little boy who believed in the kindness of the world. 

Shouyou inspects the locket. He’d given it to Atsumu the previous summer, a keepsake from the ocean. A gift to a friend. 

“And I’m telling you, stubborn boy,” Shouyou passes the locket back to him, their fingers brushing briefly. “Nobody ever remembers for long. People forget, eventually,”

That sounds like a challenge and the thing with Miya Atsumu and challenges is that he’s never been one to back down or out. 

“Don’t worry, Shouyou,” Atsumu flicks Shouyou’s forehead playfully. “I’ll be the first one, then. I’ll be special.” 

Shouyou is surprised only for a moment before he grins back at him. 

The sun sets over the horizon and paints the whole world orange and red.

△

“Atsumu,” a familiar voice close to his ear, hand squeezing on his shoulder. “Atsumu, it’s time to wake up,” 

Atsumu opens his eyes to a familiar darkness. He is dizzy, disoriented. But he knows he’s back on the shore. The rain has stopped and his chest feels heavy and tight. He coughs out water. Atsumu feels like he’s dying but that’s not possible, he should have died already. Should have drowned for the final time. 

“Come on,” the same voice just to his side, familiar hands helping him back up. Grazing over his shoulders and then over his face. Glowing hands that Atsumu’s seen before. Healing hands because Atsumu can breathe easier now, can see clearer. 

Three things happen in quick succession:

First, Atsumu notices all the stars above their heads. He thinks he might be somewhere else because it doesn’t look real at all, to be under a blanket of stars and constellations. To even be alive after all of that.

Second, his hand comes up, fingers locking around a wrist. A boy. But not quite a boy anymore because the years have gone by and Atsumu is all too aware of that. 

Third, Shouyou smiles at him, a bit rueful and shy, but he doesn’t shake Atsumu’s hold off, either. Shouyou’s hands are still glowing, a gentle blue, similar to the ocean. To the locket around Atsumu’s neck. His hair is the same sunset color and his eyes are the familiar brown that Atsumu’s always known. That Atsumu should have never forgotten in the first place.

“Shouyou,” Atsumu is out of breath and it’s definitely not because he’d almost drowned and taken water in his lungs. Definitely not that. And he’s not going crazy, either. He isn’t, because Shouyou is staring at him, now. Six years since their last afternoon together. Six years since Atsumu had left him behind and forgotten everything that truly counted. “Oh my god, it’s really you,” 

Shouyou’s eyes are a bit wet and Atsumu is afraid he’ll start crying but instead Shouyou just throws his head back and laughs. 

“Long time no see, Atsumu,” 

Atsumu doesn’t realize he’s crying until Shouyou looks at him, brows knitted together and a look of concern on his face. 

Shouyou brings his hand up to wipe at his tears, a teasing smile on his face.

“Don’t be a big baby,” Shouyou teases, thumb pressing into Atsumu’s cheek. “Were you really that afraid of drowning?”

Atsumu swallows down the urge to tell him that any normal human would be afraid to drown but then again, that’s not exactly the truth, either. Atsumu might be afraid of drowning, afraid of dying, but not as afraid as never remembering. 

“No,” Atsumu lies, anyway, but it’s too late. He’s crying, now. 

The water had taken his memories slowly at first. Chipping away at moments he shared with Shouyou on this very beach, in a summer similar to this one.

It had been small things at first, details that slipped Atsumu’s mind. Until those little chips in his memory had grown larger, wider. Gaps. Blanks. The first thing to go was Shouyou’s name, and then his face. The last thing Atsumu had held on to before the chasm grew too wide for him to even think about bridging was the sound of Shouyou’s laughter, until eventually even that had been washed away, lost at sea. 

“I wasn’t going to let you drown,” Shouyou has both hands framing his face this time, thumbs swiping at Atsumu’s tears. “What kind of friend would I be?”

“I forgot about you,” the shame is white and hot, and angry inside of him. “What kind of friend am I, Shouyou?” 

Shouyou takes a few moments to respond to that, feigning a complete look of concentration. But there’s a twinkle in his eyes and a smile similar to the beacon of a lighthouse breaking through the fog, guiding the ship back into the harbor. A signal for home. 

“A stupid one,” Shouyou finally tells him, snickering. “But you’ve always been my best friend,” 

The whole world is swimming in a pool of his tears and Atsumu still finds the energy to laugh, a bit wet and broken, but it is a laugh, anyway. 

“Y’know what, I wasn’t scared of the water at all this time,” Atsumu grins at him, rather proudly. And that might just be half the truth but he means it all the same. Atsumu is still terrified of the ocean, of everything that it hides under the water, but the fear isn’t holding him back anymore. It certainly didn’t hold him back during the storm. 

“Yeah, yeah, now stop crying,” Shouyou’s hands aren’t glowing anymore but his eyes are bright and Atsumu starts to feel a swooping sensation in his stomach. 

Did he forget this part, too? 

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” Atsumu says, ignoring the feeling. Shoving it down, deep, deep down. “See, no more.”

No more tears but Atsumu is still shaking from the inside. His bones rattling because he can’t believe it. None of this should even be real. 

“What are you thinking about?” Shouyou must see something in his eyes that Atsumu isn’t even aware of because he leans forward, face drawing much closer to his. 

“That I’m just dreaming,” 

Or that he’s already at the bottom of the ocean and this is just a small reprieve for the terrible way he’d gone down.

Shouyou laughs at him, loud and far too amused for someone who’d saved somebody’s life. 

“No, listen, it’s not a dream, I promise you,” and there it is again, another promise from Shouyou. All these years and Shouyou’s kept every single promise that he’d made to Atsumu. “How about this, hm? We’ll wait for the sunrise together. That way, it’ll be morning and you’ll know for sure that you’re awake.” 

Atsumu looks at Shouyou’s sunset hair and his sunrise smile and he wonders if they should still be hanging around the beach like this when the sunrise is right here, but he doesn’t say anything. Just leans against Shouyou the same way he’s always leaned into him all those years back and closes his eyes. 

“Okay, but if I really did drown and I’m dead then I’m going to haunt this beach forever,” Atsumu tells him, sneaking a glance at Shouyou.

Shouyou, who isn’t exactly the same Shouyou Atsumu had left behind six years ago, just laughs at him, clearly in disbelief. 

Even children of the ocean grow with time. He’s a bit sharper around the edges, now. A little bit taller, too. But all the important things are the same. Like the gentle look in his eyes and his tender smile, and how he is still so, so warm beside Atsumu. 

△

So Atsumu didn’t dream up the whole night and he definitely didn’t die from an unfortunate drowning. But everything else still feels so surreal, like this can’t be happening. And to him, of all people, too. These kinds of things shouldn’t happen in real life and yet here he is. Here Shouyou is, back to save Atsumu for the second time in his life. 

Atsumu has no explanation for this but his grandfather’s words ring in his ears as he stares absent-mindedly at the empty store. 

The sea is special. 

Shouyou is from the sea and he is special, and there is no other explanation Atsumu needs but that. 

Osamu notices the sudden shift in him because the bastard always picks up on Atsumu’s little tells and he brings it up, if only to watch Atsumu flinch.

“Did something happen to you?” 

“No,” Atsumu says all too quickly. 

Osamu narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I’m not stupid, ‘Tsumu,”

“First of all, you are,” Atsumu counters. “Second of all, yeah, okay, something did kinda happen. I can’t explain it but you know that friend you mentioned before? I found him again,” 

“Huh, if that isn’t good news,” Osamu sounds incredibly bored but there’s a glint in his eyes that betrays the careful look he’s schooled his expression into. “And you’re not inviting me for the reunion?”

Atsumu sticks his tongue out. “Gross, no, you’ll scare him off,” and besides, he isn’t even sure if Shouyou would even want to meet anyone else. If he can. Maybe he can. Maybe he will. Atsumu will ask, anyway, but to hell if Osamu thinks he can meet him. 

“Alright, keep him a secret, then. I don’t care,” Osamu walks away from the counter to restock some shelves. “Tell me this one thing, though. Did you get his name this time?”

“Yes,” Atsumu says, voice steady and clear. As sure as the sun is setting over the horizon this very second. “It’s Shouyou.” 

Atsumu is twenty three years old and he remembers a boy. A friend. The home in the sea. 

He remembers Shouyou. 

△

Now, the thing that comes with remembering Shouyou is Shouyou himself, bright and bouncing with energy whenever Atsumu sneaks away after dinner to visit him at the beach. Or even sneak off in the middle of the afternoon to find him in one of the more secluded spots, just a little bit away from the local shore and behind a large formation of rocks.

They never decide where to meet. They just meet. It’s like Shouyou knows exactly where Atsumu will be and shows up when he needs him to.

They’re both on their backs and staring at the passing clouds over their heads when Atsumu asks, “Why didn’t you ever show up before? When I first got here,”

“Good question. Why didn’t I,” Shouyou hums, a low vibration beside Atsumu. They’re close like this, arms pressed together. “Kenma said I couldn’t do that since you didn’t remember me anymore,” 

Kenma. A name. Another boy with bright blonde hair. Atsumu thinks he might had known him, once. Held a conversation with the boy in question. He also thinks he and Kenma might just be around the same age. 

“I met him before,” Atsumu tells Shouyou, turning to his side to watch Shouyou watch the clouds. Bright brown eyes and a smile that can drag you under the water and then pull you back out. 

“Yeah, you didn’t like him very much,” Shouyou laughs at that, amused. “Kenma likes you plenty, though,”

But Atsumu remembers.

He was fourteen years old when he first met Kenma. A slight boy that looked at Atsumu like he was nothing but trouble. Who barely said anything to him before turning back to Shouyou and complaining that the beach is too hot, he wants to go home. 

“I doubt that,” Atsumu laughs nervously. 

Just the memory of Kenma glaring at him from across the beach and then once more before he’d disappeared with Shouyou back into the water has Atsumu feeling nervous and just a tad bit intimidated. 

He can’t deny that Kenma had been right, though. God knows what Atsumu would have even said if Shouyou had suddenly come up to him that first day back. Probably nothing. He would have probably walked away.

There’s a lot of would haves and could haves but they don’t exactly count, not in the right now of things, anyway. 

So Atsumu drops the question and instead asks another one. 

This time, he avoids looking at Shouyou’s face. Lies back down on the sand and stares at the passing clouds. 

“Why’d you save me, Shouyou?”

Shouyou sputters out something unintelligible beside him. He lifts himself up quickly, leaning over Atsumu to cast a shadow over his face. He frowns. 

“I couldn’t let you drown,” Shouyou looks hurt. Betrayed, even, that Atsumu had asked the question. “You’re my friend,” 

Atsumu quickly smooths it over with a hand to Shouyou’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, trying to get him to relax again. When Shouyou finally huffs out a breath, Atsumu smiles, more apologetic than anything and tries again. “No, I mean the first time. When I was eleven and you didn’t know me. Why did you save me?” 

“Oh,” Shouyou realizes just what he means. He plops back down on the sand. 

“Same answer, I think,” Shouyou smiles. “I couldn’t let you drown,”

“But you didn’t know me,”

“I didn’t need to,” Shouyou’s voice is patient. Kind. He turns his head to look at Atsumu and smiles gently. Tenderly. “The ocean isn’t as cruel as you think her to be, you know,” 

“I know,” Atsumu says it too quickly. 

Shouyou picks up on the bluff and rolls his eyes.

“The ocean gave me a friend,” there’s that smile again. A familiar tender smile that squeezes at Atsumu’s heart. He doesn’t remember everything clearly but he thinks that this isn’t the first time he’s ever felt this way. “She gave me you, Atsumu, and that isn’t cruel at all,”

Atsumu looks at Shouyou, completely at peace under the great blue sky. 

Shouyou, who laughs like sunrise and who comes home to the ocean. Shouyou, with the glowing hands that can heal anything they touch. Shouyou, whose name is carved in the locket resting gently over Atsumu’s heart. 

“You’re right, Shouyou,” Atsumu says, an easy smile on his face.

The ocean might have drawn them both to each other but it has also taken too much from Atsumu. But he doesn’t bring that up, not now, anyway. Not when all he wants is to bask under the sunshine with Shouyou, who brushes his fingers over Atsumu’s, as if in a question. 

A question that Atsumu answers by threading their fingers together and squeezing. 

△

And their friendship isn’t exactly normal but nothing about Shouyou is normal. He can spin water in his hands and can control the currents if he wants to. Shouyou, a child of the ocean. Special. There is nothing ordinary about him at all. 

It hits Atsumu then, one afternoon, a sudden realization. A question. 

They’re wading in the water, the sun starting its slow descent. But the water is warm and Atsumu isn’t afraid at all. So he asks, even if it sounds ridiculous, even if he knows Shouyou will just laugh at him, tell him that it’s all been some stupid mistake, that there’s probably some parts of his memory that isn’t all there yet. 

“Didn’t you have a tail?” Atsumu asks, anyway. He’s been known to talk first before thinking. Nothing has changed, even when he’s with Shouyou.

As if in retaliation, Shouyou turns around, hand grabbing at his back. “No tail,”

Atsumu kind of thinks there’s more to his feelings than simple fondness but that’s another discussion for later. 

“No, I mean. Instead of legs. Fins, or whatever,” Yeah, he’s losing his mind.

But Shouyou just laughs, as Atsumu had expected, and nods. “Sometimes,” 

“Sometimes?” A flash of red and green, one of those mermaid fins that he’s seen in books and in movies, except this time it’s real and it’s beautiful. “I think I’ve seen it a few times,”

“Y’know what, you’re right. Yeah,” But there is no fish tail, just legs. “But you couldn’t even keep up with me. Didn’t wanna leave you behind in the middle of the big, bad, sea,”

Atsumu retaliates by splashing water at him.

Shouyou counters that by waving his hand and sending a particularly large wave to knock Atsumu right off his feet. He stumbles back, almost falling into the water, but he reaches his hand out in the last second and Shouyou takes it, pulling him back to his feet. His smile is immaculate and Atsumu thinks that whatever conversation he’d postponed for later about feelings and Shouyou is about to happen right now. 

“That wasn’t fair,” Atsumu grumbles, face heating up. He has a tell, he knows. Cheeks flushed, eyes downcast. It’s painfully obvious. He averts his gaze, not wanting to look at Shouyou but also reluctant to let go of his hand. “Sorry I’m not a god of the sea or anything,”

“Don’t be silly,” Shouyou laughs. It sounds like waves gently kissing the shore, an endless dance of hello and goodbye. “The sea doesn’t have a god, only children.” 

And Atsumu definitely has a name for these feelings, the word on the tip of his tongue, and well.

 _Well_ , it’s not as bad, really. Looking at Shouyou, skin glistening, hair wet and eyes tinged gold in this light. 

Perhaps Atsumu is just resigned to this truth, knows that there’s nothing else he can do but accept it, because there’s no helping it the same way you really can’t win a fight against the ocean’s currents. 

So he’s in love with Shouyou, that’s not bad. What’s terrifying is the sinking realization that this isn’t the first time at all.

△

“I’m gonna say something you might not want to hear,” Osamu tells him one day during another slow morning at the shop. 

“This is the first time you’ve warned me. Are you dying, ‘Samu?” Atsumu goes to join his brother in the storage room, hands on his hips. 

“Nah, at least I don’t think so,” Osamu’s eyes widen. “Unless,”

“Alright, I get it. Now spit it out,” 

Osamu is never really one to warn him about anything he’s about to say so hearing this from him has Atsumu on his toes, guard up. 

So when Osamu says, with the casual air of somebody pointing out the weather that he thinks there’s something going on with that Shouyou boy of his, Atsumu freezes, shoulders tight. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve seen you two at the beach,” Osamu clearly doesn’t need to tell him that he’s seen them both while he was out with Suna, because that’s a separate conversation in and of itself. It’s not as if Atsumu hasn’t noticed his own brother sneaking out at odd times of the night. How they’re both just dodging each other, barely skimming by. “He’s out of your league,” 

Atsumu will end up killing his own twin brother in this dim, tiny storage room. He really will. 

“Okay, and Suna is a catch so I really don’t know why you’re picking this fight with me--” 

“If you’re calling me ugly then you should look at the mirror--” 

It’s a fight that’s been rehashed a hundred different times throughout their lives. It’s a fight that the Miya twins can slip in and out of as quickly as they can take in another breath. It’s also a fight that their grandfather walks into when he opens the door to find his grandchildren yelling at each other, Atsumu with a cabbage in hand and Osamu with a carrot. 

Their grandfather clears his throat.

Atsumu drops the cabbage back in the carton. 

Osamu hides the carrot behind his back. 

“A bit lively today, aren’t we, boys?” their grandfather chuckles. 

“He called me ugly,” Osamu tattles. 

“He is,” Atsumu rebuts. 

“You’re both nearly identical,” their grandfather tells them, amused. “Now, come out of there. Let’s go have a cup of tea.”

△

Atsumu and Osamu can easily start a fight with each other but they can end it just as quickly, too. The fight had been childish. Absolutely fucking childish and now that they’re all gathered in the backyard, tea in their hands and a freshly sliced watermelon in front of them, Atsumu bursts out laughing.

“You’re stupid, ‘Samu,” 

“You’re an idiot, ‘Tsumu,” 

Their grandfather joins them and they both swallow the remaining insults, pushing it down until all they’re left with is the cup of tea in their hands. 

“What’s the story this time, gramps?” Osamu asks through a mouthful of watermelon.

Atsumu looks at him in disgust. 

“Just something I remembered from when you two were kids. When you used to visit your grandmother and I here,” 

The story goes a little like this--

Their mother, stuck back at home, too busy with work to spend the summer with her kids.

Atsumu and Osamu discovering all the roads the different streets of this seaside town had.

Their grandmother, waiting at home with a hot meal.

Their grandfather, rousing them early on a Saturday morning to take them out to the sea on a little boating trip. 

“Do you remember that?” their grandfather asks, a fond smile on his face. 

“I do,” the twins reply in unison. This, at least, Atsumu can remember on his own.

Before the incident. Before he learned how to swim.

“You were afraid of the water even then, Atsumu,” their grandfather tells him. “It didn’t help that Osamu pushed you over the boat,” 

Osamu barks out a laugh. 

See, this is how that fishing trip went--

Osamu had pushed Atsumu off the boat and Atsumu had floundered in the water while Osamu reached over the side of the boat to help him, only for Atsumu to yank on his outstretched hand and pull him right over with him. Their grandfather had laughed so hard that morning that he’d grown red in the face and they’d received a scolding from their grandmother for what they’d put their grandfather up to, but it wasn’t a problem then, and it’s not a problem now, it’s just a good memory that they can share. 

“And then you went and almost drowned a few days later,” Osamu recalls, sounding all too pleased at the memory. “No wonder you’re terrified of the water,” 

“No,” Atsumu cuts him off before he can say anything else. “I don’t think I am, at least. Not anymore,”

“Let’s go on another fishing trip this Saturday,” their grandfather announces, looking rather pleased with his own idea.

“Why don’t you ask your friend to come along?” Osamu brightens up considerably, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Supposedly ‘Tsumu found the friend who saved him before,” 

Their grandfather nods, closes the conversation with no input from Atsumu at all with a final, “That settles it, then.”

△

It takes a whole lot of practicing and several more minutes of Atsumu beating around the bush before he brings the idea up to Shouyou, who only looks at him excitedly.

“Wow,” Shouyou says, after the terrible little speech that contained a lot of, _I mean, if you want to. But you don’t have to. Only if you want to, or whatever_. “I’d love to come!” 

Atsumu doesn’t even know if he’s happy with that or if he’s terrified at the prospect of Shouyou finally meeting his twin, so he settles his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders and warns, “Osamu is my evil twin,” 

“I don’t see how anyone can get more evil than you, Atsumu!” is all that Shouyou chirps, and that had been _that_.

Another arrow to Atsumu’s heart, Shouyou thankfully oblivious to the effect he has on Atsumu. Good. That’s good and not a problem. It doesn’t hurt at all. 

The sun sets behind Shouyou and all Atsumu can do is stare at him, helpless. 

△

The fishing trip itself is a very normal affair. Their grandfather claps Shouyou on the back and thanks him for all those years ago, says that it’s great to finally meet him.

Osamu eyes Shouyou carefully before he says hello, asking if he’s the reason Atsumu’s never at home these past few days.

Shouyou just laughs and tells them that he’s sorry for hogging Atsumu, he’s just missed having his friend back, and Osamu--

Well, Osamu locks eyes with Atsumu and he smiles, a purely unnerving smile that chills Atsumu to the bone because he knows.

When they’re finally settled, miles and miles away from the shore, their grandfather starts to recount the story of their first fishing trip together. It has Shouyou in absolute stitches, head thrown back as he laughs a laugh that’s bigger than himself, bigger than the sea, even. Shouyou laughs so hard that he’s got tears in his eyes.

Atsumu winds an arm around his shoulders, steadying him before he can fall over the wooden bench, and Shouyou just leans into him, shoulders still shaking from a laugh he can’t quite suppress, but that’s nothing to be surprised about. There is no containing the ocean, afterall. 

“I would’ve loved to see that,” Shouyou says with a cheeky little grin that Atsumu pinches right off his face. 

“I can do that,” Osamu volunteers himself with an easy smile that will haunt Atsumu’s waking moments. “Can I, gramps?”

Their grandpa just shakes his head. “No, but you can always just go for a normal swim.”

With the wide open sky spanning over their heads and the sound of the gentle waves rocking against their simple little boat, Atsumu jumps.

The only difference this time around is that he doesn’t need Osamu to push him in because Shouyou’s already waiting in the water, arms wide open and calling out to him. 

A siren song that Atsumu can finally sing along to.

△

“You’re in love with him,” it’s not a question, more like an announcement. Osamu slides the door close and looks at Atsumu carefully. “And to think I was just messing with you before,” 

Atsumu squares his shoulders. “Okay, and?” 

“This is hilarious,” Osamu laughs. “I didn’t expect this at all,”

“Neither did I,” Atsumu’s voice is small, like he’s accepted it already. It’s a truth that he’s come to terms with but it’s also not easy because Shouyou is--Shouyou is easy to be with but he’s special. Osamu was right when he said Shouyou was out of his league. “But nothing’s going on,”

Osamu grows quiet at that, the realization of just what kind of situation his brother’s landed himself into dawning on him. 

“Oh, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sounds like he means it, too. “I didn’t mean it when I said he was out of your league,” 

Atsumu just glares at his brother. “I meant it when I said Suna could do better,” 

Osamu moves over to smack him lightly on the forehead. 

“Yeah, okay, good night, asshole,” Osamu says, already moving to the door. “Sweet nightmares, or whatever.” 

“Or whatever,” Atsumu calls back when the door slides shut. Osamu can get under his skin but Atsumu prefers his brother grilling him than--than the pity that had flashed on his face earlier. Atsumu doesn’t want anybody’s pity because he’d expected this end result already. 

Had known at seventeen that he was in love with Shouyou and couldn’t do anything about it.

Now, he’s twenty three years old, in love with him all over again and he still can’t do anything about it. 

Atsumu falls asleep with the seashell locket clutched tight in his hand. It glows a dim blue throughout the night and Atsumu dreams of being on a boat with Shouyou, the waves guiding them into the heart of the ocean.

Not for the first time, Atsumu feels an ache inside of him when he wakes up to an empty bed, the locket cold in his hand. 

△

It’s too late to go for a swim but that doesn’t stop them from running down the beach, hair blowing in the wind and their feet kicking up sand. 

Besides, Shouyou’s saved him from drowning two times already. There’s no way anything can go wrong this time. Atsumu trusts him, simple as that.

So when Shouyou guides him into the water, a playful smile on his face and his eyes lit up by moonlight, Atsumu can’t do anything but follow along. 

Should finds Atsumu’s hand underwater and pulls him along behind him, guiding him through waist-deep water and only stopping when it reaches their chests. Out here, with miles of nothing but the sea around them, Atsumu can’t help but think that Shouyou looks absolutely perfect in the water, so at ease. At home. 

And there’s no reason for Shouyou to keep holding onto Atsumu’s hand but Atsumu will be damned before he lets go, fingers threading through Shouyou’s and holding on tighter than should be necessary, because water has slipped so easily through Atsumu’s fingers and he knows better, now. 

Atsumu isn’t going to let go first. 

Not after six years of his own memory failing him. Not after everything he’s done just to get here. Just to remember the boy. His friend. _Shouyou_. 

They’re standing against the current, the waves gently lapping at Atsumu’s back. 

It must be Shouyou’s doing, if only to make Atsumu feel safe.

But Atsumu is already safe. Has never felt anything but safe with Shouyou around. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Atsumu says, pulling Shouyou closer to him.

Shouyou is easily pulled along, feather-light in the water. 

“What, like something you don’t remember?” Shouyou’s brows knit together.

Atsumu smooths it out with his thumb. “No, tell me a secret, Shouyou,” 

“I feel like secrets would be safe with you,” Shouyou smiles wryly, but there’s an edge to his tone and Atsumu hears what he doesn’t say. What he doesn’t need to say.

Secrets are safe with Atsumu because he will forget it over time. Everything Shouyou touches, everything Shouyou says will be lost to the waters once more.

Atsumu doesn’t relent, though. Just squeezes on their locked hands. The water around them is calm, the waves a quiet lullaby in his ears. 

“Okay, this is going to be embarrassing but I watched you the first time you came to the beach,” Shouyou’s cheeks are a dusty pink. Atsumu pretends he doesn’t notice. “I wanted to talk to you, I really did, but Kenma had a point,” 

It was a really good point and Atsumu won’t admit that the same way he won’t admit that he’s terrified of Kenma. 

“I missed you a lot, Atsumu,” Shouyou’s smile is a little bit sad, eyes downcast, and his hand slacking in Atsumu’s hold. 

There is an ache so deep and primordial inside of Atsumu that he wonders if he’ll ever recover from this. From the shame of putting Shouyou through so much only for Atsumu himself not to remember. Perhaps this is something he will never learn to forgive himself for, not when Shouyou looks hurt. More hurt than he’s allowed himself to look around Atsumu. 

The words come before Atsumu can even think about it, but once it’s out of his mouth he knows that they’re true.

“I missed you, too,” 

The waves stir them farther away from the shore. 

“You didn’t remember me,” is all Shouyou tells him, trying not to sound too hurt. “And that’s okay. You have to believe me when I say it’s okay,” 

“But I still missed you,” and this is the second biggest truth in Atsumu’s life, right after the fact that he’s in love with Shouyou. “I think I missed you everyday, even when I didn’t remember you anymore. There was--there was a missing piece in my life, Shouyou,”

There was a step, at first, and then a gap, and then there was a chasm, a threshold that Atsumu had been too afraid to cross. 

But all he needed was a flying leap of faith. 

Or maybe, all Atsumu had to do was dive into the water. 

“I have another secret,” Atsumu knows if he won’t say it now then he can’t say it anymore, not outloud, and definitely not to Shouyou. 

“I thought you were asking _me_ for secrets,” Shouyou laughs, a little bit wet and shaky. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and Atsumu reaches a hand out to cup his cheek.

“Well, it’s my turn now,” Atsumu grins, rather sheepishly. “I’ve loved you twice already,”

Whatever Shouyou was doing to the water around them seems to have stopped working because a large wave hits Atsumu square in the back and pushes him under the water. 

His hand slips from Shouyou’s but only for a second because Shouyou pulls him back up to the surface, mouth open, ready to apologize, a hundred different apologies on the tip of his tongue but Atsumu cuts him off with a surprised laugh that shakes his shoulders and washes over him the same way the water does. 

“What happened, god of the sea?” Atsumu laughs, still holding on to Shouyou.

“I told you, there is no god of the sea,” Shouyou is red in the face and glaring at him. “You just caught me by surprise, okay,” 

“Okay,” Atsumu repeats, the weight of his own confession crashing down on him the very same way the wave had. “But that’s it, that’s the secret,” 

“What do you mean by twice?” the water is calm again, only the gentle waves keeping them both afloat. 

“The first was when I was seventeen,” at the beach, when he’d carved Shouyou’s name into the seashell locket. “And the second time is right now,” in the middle of the ocean with Shouyou, their fingers threaded, a sky full of stars spinning above their heads. 

“That’s funny,” Shouyou is definitely not laughing, but he is smiling at him. “I think I’ve only been in love with you that one time, when I was fifteen,” 

A tidal wave could come right now but it won’t be enough to drag Atsumu away from Shouyou. He moves closer instead, until there’s barely any space between them. Until Shouyou has to tip his chin up to look at him, a very self satisfied smile on his face. 

“What about now, then?” Atsumu chances another question, heart hammering in his chest. 

“The secret is I don’t think I ever stopped,” 

Atsumu smiles a small smile and manages to hold it for a second before it splits into a grin, and then a laugh, until Shouyou joins him, the both of them laughing in the middle of the sea, the waves gently carrying them close, close, and closer until there’s barely any space between them. 

The waves carry them both home. 

Atsumu finally manages to find his footing in the sand. It doesn’t take much to lift Shouyou up because he barely weighs like anything in the water. He hoists him up even higher, Shouyou’s legs coming around his hips. 

They continue to laugh at each other and then into each other, Shouyou’s hands winding around Atsumu’s neck, and god, it feels so good to hear Shouyou laugh this close. To feel the laugh trip past Shouyou’s mouth and slip right through the spaces inside of Atsumu, where it stays, a golden light inside of him that will keep him warm for all the days to come. 

Shouyou holds onto him and Atsumu lets his laugh wash over him. 

The water dances around them and the stars burn brighter than ever, the moonlight the only thing they need to guide them to each other. 

It is sweet, sweet relief. 

Atsumu kisses Shouyou halfway through a laugh, and it’s magical, absolutely fucking _magical_ , to be able to kiss someone’s laughter from their lips, to allow it to warm you from the inside out. Shouyou’s laugh has left visible imprints on Atsumu’s soul, a twinge of gold here and there the same way you’ll only find Shouyou’s fingerprints over Atsumu’s heart. 

Shouyou kisses him back and he tastes like the ocean. He tastes like a sweet summer day. 

They break the kiss off when Atsumu laughs halfway through it, the kind of laugh that he couldn’t hold in, and Shouyou just shakes his head and kisses him everywhere else, instead.

Hands on either side of Atsumu’s face as he peppers kisses down his cheek and his forehead, a gentle nuzzling of their noses together until they’re both out of the water and on the sand, a little bit breathless and feeling a lot like two stupid boys who’ve finally done the right thing. 

“Do you still think you’re dreaming?” Shouyou has his head on Atsumu’s chest, and he must hear how fast his heart is thumping but that’s not something Atsumu has to worry about, not anymore.

Atsumu presses a long, lingering kiss to the side of Shouyou’s head. 

“No, but I’d still like to watch the sunrise with you.”

Shouyou smiles at him then, muted and quiet. A smile for early in the morning. A smile that’s only for Atsumu.

Atsumu kisses him again, just because he can this time, and Shouyou turns around to nuzzle closer to him. 

“We can watch as many sunrises as you want, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu really likes the sound of that. 

△

Things fall together much easier in the dark. How the cover of nightfall offers a safety net, the twinkling stars and the moon the only ones who know about their secret.

Looking at Shouyou curled up on his side, quietly dozing, Atsumu thinks that he isn’t a secret that should be hidden.

Atsumu lifts his hand up to touch Shouyou’s face, fingers dancing lightly over his cheeks. No, Shouyou isn’t a secret. There is no hiding the ocean from the rest of the world.

Shouyou is slow to wake up, eyes blinking heavily open before they settle on Atsumu beside him, already awake and offering a smile. 

“Were you watching me sleep the whole night?” 

Atsumu pinches Shouyou’s cheek fondly. “No,” not a lie. He was only watching him for a few minutes.

“I don’t buy that,” Shouyou says with a yawn, stretching out on Atsumu’s bed, because they’d made it back home after the sunrise, had crept back in before his grandfather and Osamu had started to wake up.

It’s a little past nine now and Shouyou’s bedhead is hilarious and Atsumu is so, so fond of him. Absolutely in love with the boy who laughs with the ocean tide and who holds Atsumu’s heart in his hands. 

“I don’t care,” Atsumu kisses him once on the tip of his nose and then one more time on his forehead. “Good morning,”

Shouyou burrows closer to him, arm looping around Atsumu’s hip. “You have a comfy bed,” 

“Why, do you sleep on, like, the ocean floor or something?” He laughs, a low and quiet laugh. 

“I’ll tell Kenma you said that,” Shouyou murmurs into his neck, lips brushing against the base of Atsumu’s neck. 

“Please don’t,” Atsumu ignores the fire in his veins and instead looks at Shouyou pleadingly. “I haven’t seen Kenma in years but I know he’ll kill me,” 

“Don’t be silly, Atsumu,” Shouyou’s eyelids flutter against the skin on the base of Atsumu’s neck. He leaves a trail of butterfly kisses. “Kenma is harmless,” 

Atsumu really doubts that but he’s got a very sleepy Shouyou in his bed and in his arms and there’s no reason they should be discussing his very terrifying friend, so he drops it. 

“You’re falling asleep,” Atsumu notes with a hint of amusement. 

Shouyou’s eyes have started to grow heavy again, eyelids slowly fluttering to a close as his breathing evens out. 

“Just a few more minutes,” Shouyou yawns, fingers slipping into the spaces between Atsumu’s and holding on tight.

Atsumu presses a kiss to Shouyou’s forehead, lets it linger, likes how Shouyou curls even closer to him, a mess of orange hair and tanned limbs. Atsumu likes everything about this morning, how the curtains glow from the nine a.m sun. How Shouyou is refusing to even move a single limb, wanting nothing more than a few more minutes of sleep.

It’s difficult when you’re so fond of someone. It almost hurts, really, how Atsumu looks at Shouyou and can’t think of anything else but how he wants him to be happy. How he’ll give anything just to keep the both of them here, tucked away in their own corner of the world, where everything is quiet and wonderful. 

But the morning glow doesn’t last forever and sooner than later they’re both roused awake by a knock on Atsumu’s door. 

Osamu peeks inside without any other warning and finds Atsumu blinking blearily up at him.

Shouyou is swimming under two layers of blankets.

Osamu raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. 

“Huh,” is all he says before stepping out of the room, the door sliding quietly behind him. 

His footsteps recede down the hall and Atsumu realizes exactly what had happened a few minutes too late. 

“Oh, my god,” Atsumu says into his hands. 

Shouyou stirs awake for the second time, hand scrambling to pull Atsumu back into bed with him. “What’s wrong?”

Atsumu hides his face in the crook of Shouyou’s shoulder. “Osamu’s going to hold this above my head forever.”

“That sounds like a pretty long time,” Shouyou yawns. “I’m sure you can think of some way to get him back in the middle of that.”

△

The thing when it comes to the summer is that it comes and it goes quickly. The shift isn’t sudden, like the way the sun sets at an earlier time, or how the sunrise is taking longer than usual. It’s these little things, as well as the refreshing breeze of the sea turning chilly for some particularly gloomy afternoons, that mark the first signs of an ending summer. 

Time is something that Atsumu knows he doesn’t have a lot of. He is so, so painfully aware of that. 

The summer is almost ending and their mother has been calling everyday now, asking for her sons. If they’d want to come home earlier than promised. 

Osamu is reluctant to come home and Atsumu--Atsumu can’t even imagine leaving everything behind again and forgetting, because he knows he will forget. 

Maybe not instantly. Maybe not in the next few days, or even weeks. But eventually. It will be like water slipping through his fingers. 

It’s something that weighs so heavily on him that it completely slips his mind until the day before they’re supposed to leave, when Shouyou points out the way the sky is a mixture of oranges and reds and yellows, barely there pinks and purple streaks on the horizon. 

“I think this was a really good summer,” Shouyou says quietly, looking out at the ocean. 

They’re hidden underneath a tree, the main part of the beach too far away from them. Atsumu likes this spot best, with the shrubs and the flowers and the trees giving them cover. The shore calls for them but for the first time in all their afternoons together, Shouyou doesn't pull Atsumu into the water.

Instead, they stay under the tree, just looking out at the sea. 

“I think so, too,” Atsumu knows it’s coming. That this is a conversation that they should have had the first time, but when he looks at Shouyou, he’s greeted by a smile similar to all the other smiles Shouyou had flashed at him. 

When Atsumu had spilled juice all over his shirt and had to walk around the beach shirtless, but that’s okay because he looks good, anyway, is all that Shouyou had said, a cheeky little smile on his face.

When Atsumu had fallen off the bed and Shouyou had barely caught him before he toppled to the floor, too. His smile then had been something Atsumu would keep in a bottle, something to get him through all the rainy days in his life. 

But Shouyou’s smile this time is quiet, solemn, even. 

The sun starts to set and Atsumu winds his arm around Shouyou’s waist. They slot together like two mismatched jigsaw pieces but that’s okay, Atsumu likes that about Shouyou. Likes how Shouyou’s fingers are much shorter than his because it means Atsumu can envelope Shouyou’s fist in his own hand. Likes how Shouyou has to stand on his toes sometimes to reach up to Atsumu for a kiss. He likes so many things about Shouyou, Atsumu just can’t imagine--forgetting. One day waking up to all of these things gone again. To another empty chasm inside of his head and a bottomless pit in his heart. 

“What happens after summer?” 

He feels Shouyou curl up closer beside him, Shouyou’s hand lightly brushing over Atsumu’s knee, setting his veins on fire. 

“Anything you want,” is all Shouyou tells him, his smile a bit more muted this time around.

“No, you know what I mean,” Atsumu doesn’t want to look at Shouyou for this because he thinks he’ll chicken out. So he trains his gaze on the horizon and asks, “Will I forget you again?”

The seashell locket around his neck burns at the question. 

Shouyou beside him doesn’t move at all, is perfectly still and comfortable beside Atsumu. He doesn’t even need to answer the question for Atsumu to confirm it.

“I won’t let myself forget,” _Again_ , a voice in his head tells him. Taunts him. Mocks him. 

Shouyou has taken to playing with Atsumu’s fingers, pulling on each one carefully before finally answering, “You will,” 

“I won’t,” Atsumu threads their fingers together. Hears Shouyou’s intake of breath. He turns around to face him, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to Shouyou’s knuckles, fleeting and soft. Barely there. “Not again,” 

“But if you do?” Shouyou knocks the frown off Atsumu’s face with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Humor me,”

“Then who needs memories?” is all Atsumu tells him, ducking in low to kiss Shouyou, slow and sweet, their lips brushing together in a way that’s almost painful. 

But Atsumu had lied. Atsumu needs his memories. Doesn’t want to forget this, any of this. He doesn’t want to forget Shouyou, not again, and if he does--

If he does forget, then what’s falling in love with the same boy for a third time, or a fourth time? Atsumu will spend the rest of his life searching for him again, falling in love over and over again until Shouyou grows sick and tired. 

“The sea will wash away anything if you let it,” Shouyou whispers, voice close to his ear. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall into Atsumu’s embrace, head pillowed on Atsumu’s shoulders. 

This is good, this is comfortable. Atsumu will hold on to this for as long as he can, for as long as the water will let him.

“Maybe that’s the secret to the ocean,” another murmur, Shouyou growing warm in his hands.

Atsumu is tracing circles down Shouyou’s back when it clicks. 

Everything suddenly seems to make sense. Atsumu knows what he needs to do, now, and it’s only taken him six years and one painful summer. 

“I’ll come home before that happens,” it is a promise, as true as the chirping birds over their heads. 

Atsumu will come home to Shouyou, over and over again. It will be a homecoming to last an entire lifetime. 

It’s like the never ending cycle of the ocean and the shoreline, a constant back and forth.

A _hello, my love_ as the waves kiss the shoreline quickly followed by a _goodbye for now_ when it draws away. 

“Well, you know me,” Shouyou chokes on a laugh, face pressed into Atsumu’s chest. “You know where to find me.”

Atsumu is twenty three years old when he realizes that he can always come home to the boy beloved by the sea. 

So he doesn’t cry, instead, he just tips Shouyou’s chin up and smiles at him. 

Shouyou smiles a smile that Atsumu will gladly rearrange continents for, make them fit in all the ways that they used to before the great shift. 

“Don’t make me wait too long this time,” Shouyou raises his hand up for a pinky promise.

The ocean is unpredictable and unknown. It can take so much if you just let it. But despite that, there is still one true constant: the water will always keep coming back to kiss the shoreline. 

“Promise.” Atsumu says, hooking their pinky fingers together. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyways! let me know what you think or talk to me on twt @HOSHIUMIKOURAl. 
> 
> thanks! x


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